Because He's Namaka
by The New Vampire
Summary: Dumping ground for all my OP oneshots. Chapter 2-A rambling what-if. T for intense emotions. I'm sorry if you all hate my guts by the end of it. -Will
1. Chapter 1

**Author's** **Note: **Yes. I went there. Deal with it. Now read. Please.

* * *

**Because He's Namaka**

Sanji finally managed to stop hyperventilating, fifteen minutes after Chopper had him bring in the broken body of Zoro into the ruins so he could heal him.

But that's just what it was, he figured.

The broken body of _Zoro_.

Zoro. Their first mate. Their indestructible anchor. Not literally, the way that Luffy and Chopper and Brook and yes, even his Robin-chwan were. Their emotional anchor, the eye of the storm of swirling emotions. He was always there, pretending to be aloof and cold but really just a rock for them all to hang on to. Zoro understood his strengths and their weaknesses, and was always there as a medium, a stabilizer to all the swirling emotions that was their crew.

Sanji remembered a weird encounter with some townsfolk. They had shied away from the cold and aloof Pirate Hunter, even as they were somehow drawn to the Straw Hat. Even some of their enemies considered Zoro to be far more of a threat than Luffy, because it was Zoro they thought concealed all of his emotions.

That wasn't it, Sanji knew. Anyone who had eyes could see the way that he would all too often join in with the Idiot Trio at their insistence with some harebrained scheme or game. How he encouraged their young doctor and protected him from some of the more hostile strangers. How he was always there for Luffy, always the first one to comfort him in his own way that the two of them somehow understood, how he was there to support him or guide him back to the right path, how he was there to restrain him when the captain's overflowing emotions erupted. How he grudgingly catered to Nami when she brought up his debt but how he unselfishly saved her or shielded her from attacks and blows during battle. How he sometimes listened patiently to Usopp's tales, even if he did point out that it was all lies at the end. How he sometimes quietly discussed things with Robin-chwan. How he accepted all of Franky's weirdness, and his value as an ally when they were rescuing Robin-chwan. In fact, he even helped, almost uncomplainingly, when he, the cook, needed help with food preparations or dish-washing, and washed his clothes every week.

It went even further than just individual reactions for each crewmember. He laughed at the jokes, celebrated with them when they got new namaka, fought with them as one of the front-line defenders, jumped to it when Nami-swan needed a change of direction. He even felt safe enough, Sanji was sure, to sleep on the deck, in full sunlight. Even though that had often irritated him, since he had the worst (or maybe it was best, at least for him) timing for picking naps, Sanji still could appreciate that. Zoro felt enough…enough at _home_ here to fall asleep, confident that his namaka would wake him up when they needed his help.

And now he was going to make the ultimate sacrifice. Sanji didn't know _how_ he got this way…but he had a pretty good guess. After all, if Luffy's body was like that, then wouldn't it make sense…?

But Sanji knew better than to speak his thought out loud. If Zoro was protective, then Luffy was downright obsessive about the safety of his crewmates. Sanji had decided long ago that it was the fact that he _knew_ he was stronger than all of them, that he hit the hardest. And the fact that Luffy was aware that he was the strongest made him, in his childish, simple (but in no way unintelligent) mind, responsible for all of his crewmate's wellbeing. Every hit each of his namaka took, Sanji thought, made Luffy ache all the more. He had seen, at the end of the battles when Chopper ran around patching them up, the quick, hot, pained flashes in Luffy's eyes when he saw the shape his namaka were in.

Yes, he knew Zoro was different. He'd known it far, far back, even before he joined, but he confirmed it absolutely at Mock Town, when Luffy and Zoro came back all bloody. Nami-swan had told him the whole story, and Sanji had felt a quick stab of jealousy bite deep.

Yes, Luffy cared about all of his crewmates. Cared enough to hurt for all of them. But he knew and understood Zoro and his insane strengths and sometimes idiotic weaknesses, enough to hurt _with_ him. And that was a whole different ball game.

And yet it was the same, he mused. Now it was the same, with Luffy not physically hurt at all but with Zoro two breaths and a drop of blood away from death. He was sure that Luffy might not really _know_, but he _knew_. Luffy would have a suspicion about what had happened, but he wouldn't know exactly what happened.

Sanji sucked in two lungfuls of calming smoke, and blew it out, watching the grey mist swirl patterns in the air. What had happened only made Sanji surer that while it was _Luffy_ who was the strongest, it was _Zoro_ who could take the most and hardest blows. And if he was correct, then if you looked at it the right way, then it was _Zoro_ who was the more formidable—an opponent who just kept standing up, again and again, even after downpours of blows.

Sanji exhaled again, leaning back against a chunk of wall. Now that their rock was cracked, the hard exterior slipped and the inside damaged, what would the crew do? Yes, Robin-chwan was also steady and somewhat of a second anchor, but even she was no substitute for Zoro. Especially not to Luffy, who was closer to him than a brother. Not even Chopper, who depended on Zoro even more than they cared to think. Robin-chwan might be clear and level-headed, but she didn't carry the innate authority that Zoro did. Not the authority one gets from superior knowledge, but the authority from the absolute understanding of right and wrong, honor and dishonor, victory and defeat. Zoro had that, not Robin. The only other member of the crew who had that was Luffy, not even Sanji, who knew (as much as he'd prefer to pretend it wasn't so) that he tended to try and rationalize it all.

Goddamnit, how was _Luffy_ going to take this? He, Sanji, could sit and reflect like a dumbass (_marimo_) if he so chose too, but their captain. Their _captain_. Zoro had been the first crew mate Luffy had chosen, and if Nami-swan's account was right, they had nigh on a week or so to get acquainted with each other. And if the hints dropped by Coby and Helmeppo and Luffy and Zoro himself were right, Luffy and Zoro had saved each other's lives, trusting each other almost from the start. There was no way that Luffy didn't feel any impact from this.

Sanji sighed and stood up, arching his back to hear the satisfying pops of his spine and walked to the ruins. He was the cook, after all, not the analyst. His hands itched to cook something, to make something, after all that thinking and doing nothing. He'd better go and see if the kitchen was ruined or not. He hoped not—cooking over an open fire was mildly annoying.

* * *

There had been a kitchen, in fact, one big and splendid enough to make delicious food for everyone. It was one of the things he had accepted through the years as a cook—no matter how strong or how difficult the enemy was, it was always the most important thing to get up again after a fight and cook for everyone else. And even so, cooking calmed him down and was therapeutic for him. It had been one of the things that Chopper had guessed at—the reason why the crew so rarely came down ill was because they were all content and mentally well, so their bodies reflected that.

He had eaten a few dishes and made mental notes on what to change and what to keep, and basked in the warm appreciation from everyone temporarily. It was also important not to keep a big head—arrogance seeped into the food and made it bitter.

It wasn't until those two idiot (_mosshead_) pirates came over that he became concerned again. Luffy was _not_ going to find out what happened to his namaka, if Sanji had anything to do with it. Goddamnit, the poor kid was always at the front lines, always bearing the mental stress of his namaka's wellbeing. This was _not_ going to be another fucking block on his shoulders, while Sanji just stood aside and waited.

* * *

He hadn't been surprised at what the two pirates had told him. It wasn't anything he'd already puzzled out. And he was sure some of the others had known, but trusted them not to run to Luffy. They all understood.

* * *

That night, Sanji had the strangest dream. Instead of finding the All Blue, or going to the Mermaid Cove in Fishman Island, or a rehash of some of his more humiliating defeats/hard-earned victories, or memories from the Baraite, or even just cooking, he had found himself in a house, one that he found strangely familiar, and yet in the very back of his mind knew that he'd never seen it before. He'd walked through the house, wondering why it seemed so familiar.

Then it hit him, from a memory far back in his life. This was the house he had been born and, for a little while, raised in. He walked into his old room, but froze at the doorway at the sound of baby coos. Carefully walking in, he looked in the crib and saw a whole, thick headful of bright green hair. He blinked. This was…a baby Zoro, staring up at him with pink cheeks, bright silver eyes and tiny fingers squashed up into his mouth.

It was fucking adorable.

Sanji lifted him up from under his arms, like he had seen some mothers do. The baby Zoro laughed and waved his arms, batting his nose. Sanji couldn't help but laugh as well. This was an innocent Zoro, a Zoro completely unaware of the hardships of the world and of bitterness and lonely days. This was Zoro in his elemental stage, and Sanji loved it.

The baby Zoro's stomach grumbled, and they both looked down at it, before looking back at each other. Chibi Zoro opened his mouth and babbles flew from it, instead of the cries Sanji expected. Suddenly laughing again, Sanji made his way to the beautiful kitchen and set him down in the high chair that somehow appeared. Whisking a meal quickly together, he pulled up a stool and with a plastic-covered metal spoon, proceeded to feed him. It was so cute, how he got the applesauce all over him, and how he tried unsuccessfully to wipe it off. But really, he should have seen it when chibi Zoro slapped a small fistful of the mashed apples into Sanji's hair with a devilish glint in his eyes. Sanji had cleaned them both up, and set about putting Zoro to bed. Unlike most of his other dreams, which maintained a sort of dreamy unreality to it all (excepting the nightmares, which had been more _real_ than reality), Sanji had a clearness of mind to understand that this was a separate reality, one where he had been born far ahead of Zoro, maybe even had a hand in his creation (although he wondered if he did, then exactly where did the chibi marimo get his hair shade). This almost scared him, because he suddenly felt the urge to do it all over—to protect the little, adorable baby version of his crewmate, protect him from the world that had made him grow such a hard shell, and he also felt the uselessness of that mission. Knowing Zoro, he would just find it oppressive and sneak off. Standing there, an armful of baby marimo and a shoulderful of head, thick hair and light baby snores, he understood that it was in Zoro's nature to do so, to sacrifice all for the sake of those he cared for. Chibi Zoro hadn't shown it (Sanji guessed that he was too young to) but the fact that it was only Zoro there sleeping on his shoulder, Zoro untouched by misery and hardship and weariness, let him understand his crewmate far better than if he studied the first mate for the rest of his life (which he had a sneaking feeling that he would).

Sanji felt the world fading, colors bleaching like they always did as he slid into consiousness. The weight in his arms lifted, and he felt a loss, understanding that it had been a rare glimpse, and it very well might never happen again. He thought cynically for one last moment that he was lucky he wouldn't have to change any marimo diapers, before reality crashed back in.

* * *

Sanji pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning against one of the standing walls. Around him were his sleeping crewmates. There was Robin-chwan and Nami-swan, and Usopp, and Chopper, and Franky and Brooke and—_and where the fuck was Luffy?_ Sanji sat bolt-upright, and then relaxed, kicking off the thin blanket. There was Luffy, lying next to Zoro's bed, perpendicular to his first mate with his chin resting on folded arms.

"Luffy, what are you doing?" he asked, folding his legs underneath him, sitting cross-legged next to his captain. Luffy said nothing, still watching Zoro. Eventually, Sanji gave up waiting for an answer and looked at the first mate of the Mugiwaras. They sat there for an unknowable stretch of time, before Luffy grabbed his arm, shaking it. To Sanji's questioning glance, he pointed at their crewmate.

And there was Zoro, eyes open, staring at his crewmates, the walls fully down and incalculable _relief_ in those brightly polished grey eyes. And Sanji knew, really knew, that his first mate, his brother, was _not_ going to die.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I know, I know, there are far too many one-shots about Zoro and Thriller Bark. But to be honest, I think it's written so well that it deserves all of that. It just may be me, but I haven't seen many Sanji-POV Post-Thriller-Bark arc stories, and this one presented such a beautiful opportunity to insert in a Chibi!Zoro moment I couldn't resist. SHUT UP, IT'S NOT AN OBSESSION. And finally, thanks for taking the time to slog through it all. It's confused and horrible and I would love it if you guys could tell me if there's things wrong or OOC or whatever, I say go ahead and criticize. But flames will be handed to Sanji, who will use them to cook more delicious meals. Yum.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** ...Please read!

* * *

**Because He's Namaka II**

When it happened, Nami shrieked and covered her eyes.

When it happened, Usopp froze, the only thing moving was the drops on his cheeks.

When it happened, Sanji's cigarette fell, and his breathing became erratic, harsh.

When it happened, Chopper screamed and almost fainted.

When it happened, Robin's stoic face was finally shattered.

When it happened, Franky wept openly.

When it happened, Brooke dropped his violin and bow and cane.

-:-:-

When it happened, Luffy…

Luffy just _stopped._

-:-:-

Stopped moving.

Stopped breathing.

Stopped his fist.

Stopped his legs.  
Stopped his eyes.

Stopped his senses.

Stopped his stomach.

Stopped his mind.

Just.

Stopped.

-:-:-

And somewhere inside him, his heart sputtered to a stop.

In his head, he was screaming. Sobbing. Denying.

Filled with memories.

And that one, damned image filled his eyes.

His mind.

Everything.

Leaving room.

For nothing.

-:-:-

Zoro lay face down in a quickly-growing pile of his own blood. Their enemy had done something that was impossible. Utterly impossible.

Chopper held his stethoscope over his big brother (as he had always thought of Zoro as), over his heart.

Nothing.

No air whooshing in and out of his lungs.

No dark, ragged gasps for air.

No low, quiet moans filled with pain he'd always downplay.

Nothing.

Not even the forever comforting sound of his heart.

There was nothing inside Zoro.

He was…

-:-:-

"Gone," Chopper said, barely able to speak. The Mugiwaras wanted to deny it so badly. Wanted to tell the poor reindeer to stop joking and _start fucking working on their swordsman there was no way he could be gone __**NO!**_

They turned to their opponent, their enemy. Eyes shaded. Faces made of stone. Knuckles cracking. Teeth grinding. Visibly trembling with a maelstrom of anger, all directed at _him, he was the reason why reason why Zoro reason why Zoro won't reason why Zoro won't look up and laugh and growl and fight and can't let him go can't ever forgive him._

_KILL._

Their opponent was laughing, laughing.

Until he saw.

Until he _saw_.

Then he started screaming.  
But none of the Mugiwaras heard him, their ears filled with a roaring sound, the sound of their collective anger and the faint echo of their enemy laughing.

He didn't live another fifteen minutes.

But he _survived_ long after that.

Death, they figured, was too good for him.

-:-:-

Back at the ship, Nami curled up in the girl's room, crying out and sobbing. No. This _could not be happening. He…he survived a house falling down on him! He survived Kuma! HE SURVIVED AND THERE WAS NO WAY HE COULD BE-!_

The door opened, and Usopp stepped inside. Nami looked at him, tears streaming for the first time since she begged Luffy to help her, since she watched the Merry Go sink down in flames.

They sat together and cried, siblings in their grief.

-:-:-

Back at the ship, Sanji was sitting in front of his refrigerator, which was standing open. He didn't make a sound. It was so unlike him to leave it open, since he was always adamant about preventing food from going to waste. But that was the very last thing on his mind.

He was staring at the row of beer cans, never to be drunk again with an accompaniment of sarcastic remarks and biting comebacks.

Slowly, as if in a dream, he reached for one.

It took a few tries

_(Because Zoro would kill him for touching his beer but Zoro was—no, don't say that, he'll use this against you one of these days and no, no but yes. Yes)_

but he took one, popped it open. Took a sip of the bubbling, amber liquid.

He coughed, never very used to the roughness of beer. He had always been a wine person, and Zoro had teased him on that.

"_What, can't take a drink of __**real**__ booze?"_ he'd say, something stupid like that.

Unaware of the tears streaming down his cheeks

_(he never cried, no, not even when the Merry went down, not even when Robin-chwan begged them to let her live, not even…)_

he finished off the can and crushed it, empty.

He sat and waited for someone who'd never come.

-:-:-

Back at the ship, Chopper had locked himself into the medical room. Robin had entered, using her Devil Fruit powers, to comfort the reindeer and make sure he wouldn't hurt himself.

But he knew as well as she did that none of them, no one on the crew would ever be the same. Before they had been alright, before they had not known…

Robin was no stranger to despair. The swallowing, yawning feeling, as if you had fallen off a steep cliff and there was no one, not even the ground, to catch you. No death, no time, nothing.

A void that you fell forever.

-:-:-

Back at the ship, Franky mechanically

_(oh boy, getting as bad as Brooke should stop that before Z—before someone points it out and…)_

pounded nails into ebony wood.

Unadorned, with only a beautifully detailed carving of four swords

_(one is broken and never can be used again and the other three are whole and never will be used again and oh god why why why)_

just like he would have wanted.

Black wood.

Dark red velvet insides.

Lid carving.

Box.

No.

_Coffin._

Franky knew he could do this in five minutes. Maybe less. Coffins were easy to make structurally. Just a box. Maybe a flourish here, maybe an embellish there.

Easy to make.

Theoretically.

But he took his time, hand hovering over his tools, keenly aware that this would be the last place his crewmate

_(first mate)_

would sleep.

The rhythmic sound helped Franky calm down.

It didn't help his tears.

-:-:-

Back at the ship, Brooke looked at his violin. All four strings had been snapped in their fall. That wasn't the problem. As a sensible musician, he kept several sets of extra strings, just in case of this.

That wasn't the problem.

His eyes

_(but he **didn't** have eyes, and yohohoho, skull joke even though Franky hates those even though Usopp rolls his eyes but Z—someone else will usually chuckle and offer a smile)_

were fixed on the red.

The red stains on his violin.

Somewhere, in the part of his brain that had always been darkly humorous and observant, he thought it ironic how the blood hadn't dried on his violin, wasn't content with drying on and allowing someone with a washcloth or a pair of fingernails to take it off and forget, but no, it seeped in and would stay forever.

Brooke held the wet cloth in his right hand, the violin cradled in the other. The cloth was clean, even from hours of just blankly scrubbing at the stain.

Stubborn

_(just like Z—just like that person, who was always stubborn and never could back down)_

thing.

-:-:-

Back at the ship, Luffy sat in the crow's nest/gym, the place where Franky designed just for Z—_him_.

Three golden earrings hung from a rubbery ear, making tiny chimes that reminded of wind chimes or bells.

On his arm, a green-black bandana.

Around his waist, a green hamaraki and a red sash over it.

On his lap, three long, well-cared-for meitos.

Surrounding him, a messy roomful of weights and other exercise

_(training he was always going on about his training who needed training that much but understand and let him do that unless Chopper said no…)_

equipment.

And yet there was nothing left.

Luffy slowly, hesitantly picked up the white-hilted katana.

**Zoro?**

He shook his head, not sure that the katana knew but doing it anyway.

**Zoro is gone?**

A shaky, halting nod.

**Are you the new master?**

A shake, and at first, silence. And then…

**We know.**

_Luffy._

**We're sorry.**

_Luffy…_

**We're sorry.**

_Luffy, I…_

**Sorry.**

_I wanted to tell you…_

**So so sorry.**

_Tell you…_

**Luffy.**

_Thanks._

Distantly, Luffy heard himself scream.

-:-:-

The first few nights were the worst, as they sailed back

_(Nami had no clue that Zoro had that Eternal Post, no clue he ever thought that far in advance but he always did, even though he'd probably follow it backwards or something so stupid but so utterly **Zoro **but he had bought it and kept that ever since…)_

to Zoro's old dojo.

They lay awake, hearing their captain scream at night.

Sometimes they were sure that they screamed along or cried.

-:-:-

They walked up silently, tears put away but not quite dried.

They'd never be dried.

The moment they set foot in the dojo, the door opened. A tired-looking, graying but still quite cheerful man smiled behind round spectacles, and they knew, just _knew_ that this was Zoro's Sensei.

Luffy only held out two swords.  
Sandai Kitesu.

Shuusui.

And his Sensei

_(his name turned out to be Koshiro)_

saw the only one he didn't hold out, tied around his waist with that familiar green hamaraki and a new red sash, and smiled sadly, taking the other two katana.

-:-:-

He invited them in the dojo, gently waving away the curious children. When they told him the story, he sighed and took off his glasses.

"Zoro…he was always one of the best and worst students in my class. He always took my words to heart but rarely understood them. He was the second top student and always lost to my daughter Kuina…you know, he would get so frustrated with that! But he never quit, not even after she beat him 2001 times…"

"Two-thousand-and-one times?" They can't believe it. No. Their swordsman had always been the best, and even when he wasn't he'd always come out on top. But it's true.

"Where is she now?" Robin asked, genuinely curious.

"She died long ago," Zoro's Sensei said. "Come."

He beckoned them to a simple grave, with a practice sword and a bouquet of flowers and curiously enough, a newspaper, flipped to the page with Zoro's picture.

"Hello Kuina," he said calmly, as if he was actually talking to his daughter. "I've got some friends of Zoro's. Remember him?" They watched as Koshiro talked to his daughter for a little longer and then turns back to them.

"So, what lead you here?" he asked. Robin held out a piece of paper

_(written in a strange but somehow familiar script that was quite hard to read at first but now they know just how Zoro's i's get a little too tall and how his e's sometimes looped away and how sometimes his z's would sometimes curve and look like backwards s's)_

to Koshiro, who takes it.

"To whoever has the luck of getting to bury me…"

-:-:-

_First of all, I want to make this clear. Whoever is burying me, go find the Eternal Post I have. I'm not telling you where, but just do it. It should be pretty easy to find, I think. After you find it, go and sail to the island it names and find the Isshin dojo. Bury me there, next to the grave marked as 'Kuina' if you can._

_Second, my swords, of course. If you can't find anyone worthy of using them, enshrine them with me. Use one of my earrings if you have to. I don't care—I probably won't need them anymore. But if you're going to enshrine them, take the white-hilted katana to my Sensei first. If not, then just let him know that Kuina's sword is still looking for a place up there as the Greatest Swordsman's sword._

_Third…well, there isn't much left, is there? Go ahead and take the rest of my earrings. Consider it payment._

_Thanks._

_Roronoa Zoro._

-:-:-

Koshiro looked up at the Mugiwaras, who motioned him to turn it over.

He did, noting that there was more written on the back.

"Post Script…"

-:-:-

_I guess since that I have namaka now, that whole front side's pretty much useless. Except for the first part. I still want to be buried at the Isshin dojo, but I guess you guys know that._

_Anyway, as for my swords, make sure that my Sensei knows where they are, at least. I trust you guys, so yeah._

_Make sure to kick that guy's ass, the one who defeated me. There's a pretty good chance it's Mihawk, so if it's him I just ask that you try. If not, well then, I don't need to say much, huh?_

_Goodbye._

_Zoro._

_P.P.S. Hey guys, I just wanted to tell you something, incase I don't have enough time to._

_Thanks._

_Thanks for everything._

_Especially…thanks, Luffy._

_For saving me._

_Thanks._

-:-:-

Koshiro sighed, handing the paper back to the Robin. He smiled and nodded.

"I would be honored to help you bury Zoro next to Kuina," he said.

And the Mugiwara's smiles are brittle as they accept.

-:-:-

All in all, it was a quiet funeral. Nothing fancy, just like he would've wanted.

Afterwards, at night

_(they got to stay at Z—his old dojo and they felt even closer and even farther away from him than ever)_

Luffy approached Koshiro, who was sitting out on the porch. He held Wado Ichimonji. Koshiro looked up at him, already knowing what he was about to ask.

"Teach me," Luffy said simply, his eyes shadowed by his hair and the late night.

"It will be difficult," Zoro's old Sensei said. "You're already used to your own fighting style…"

"It doesn't matter!" And from those three words, Koshiro understands what he didn't, not before. When Zoro, tears streaming down his cheeks, had begged him for Kuina's sword. He understands the importance of a vow to these young people. "It doesn't matter. I promised Zoro I'd help him become the greatest swordsman in the world. I won't back down on that promise, ever!"

Koshiro sighs, and holds out two katana.

Sandai Kitesu.

Shuusui.

Luffy looks up, eyes wide. Slowly, he takes the other two katana with shaking hands.

"They have accepted you as their master now," Luffy's new Sensei says. "If you want to carry on Zoro's wish, I suggest you use Santuryuu."

Grasping the three meitos with new resolve, Luffy does something he's rarely done before.

He bows down to his new Sensei.

-:-:-

Three years later…

Mihawk faces his new adversary…but it's not Roronoa Zoro.

"You…Mugiwara. Where is Roronoa?" he asks. Mugiwara looks up at him, and he sees a new hardness, a new chill.

This is utterly unlike Mugiwara.

Somewhere inside, he knows where Roronoa is. And why Mugiwara has three swords.

"He's dead," the hatted opponent says calmly. "I'm here as a substitute."

Mihawk closes his eyes, allowing himself to grieve for a moment.

He does see the rest of the crew. Their eyes tell him all that he needs to know.

"Very well. Let's get started."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Why am I so mean to all of them? Oh well...this was inspired by all the dead!Luffy fics, and especially Another Crewmate by HeroR! Go and read, now!


End file.
